


L-o-v-e  Y-o-u

by curlycomfort



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John loving Sherlock, L-O-V-E, M/M, Morse Code, Speechless, Waking up to kisses, Y-o-u, make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlycomfort/pseuds/curlycomfort
Summary: John had almost shut his eyes, being lulled by the affectionate actions Sherlock not dared to show anyone else than John. But there was something nagging at the back of his mind, almost as if clueing him that it wasn’t just another session of gentle affection Sherlock would always go on about every morning, hours before John woke up.He was up to something, and it wasn’t until he paid closer attention to realize what the man was doing.Christ he is doing bloody Morse code.





	L-o-v-e  Y-o-u

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first experimentation in writing a make out scene so... 
> 
> Do enjoy.
> 
> Ta~

_Sherlooock, it’s too early to-_

John’s eyes flew open, the grogginess that enveloped his body gone out the window at the familiar tender touch and presence of the consulting detective. He didn’t have to turn to know the gorgeous man had him in his arms, back pressed against a firm chest and an arm locked around him to lay a hand lightly on his stomach.

  
But the fact that he was spooning him, and ‘dear god his legs tangled with mine’ wasn’t the factor that made him feel chills run down his back, hair standing on edge and a shaky breathing expanding and contracting his chest. Neither the tender caresses that trailed down his sides almost too smoothly and barely there, as though he was afraid of breaking him with the slightest of touch, or probably because he didn’t want to interrupt the blogger’s deep sleep.

  
It was the small pecks that were planted on his shoulder, neck and sometimes jaw that were almost random. Fixating on a specific spot, pressing his lips on skin and wandering off about to another area, repeating the process once again.

Over and over.

  
John had almost shut his eyes, being lulled by the affectionate actions Sherlock not dared to show anyone else than John. But there was something nagging at the back of his mind, almost as if clueing him that it wasn’t just another session of gentle affection Sherlock would always go on about every morning, hours before John woke up. He was up to something, and it wasn’t until he paid closer attention to realize what the man was doing.  
Christ he is doing bloody Morse code.

  
Only Sherlock would do such thing as having learned how to do Morse code, knowing really well that John had the opportunity to hear about his never ending love through movements that seemed so random and yet communicated such a beautiful message without anyone knowing. His detective was a bloody genius, one that was still reluctant to showcase his love directly but still managing to get the message sent very clear.

  
‘..’

  
Those two short pecks made John’s mind go blank as he fixed his attention on them, realizing that every time a message ended, there was a long pause before he proceeded with a new one. And this was no different, Sherlock had started with a simple letter.

  
‘i’

  
His small smile had broadened at the brief and long timing the pecks transmitted, writing a message that was only for John to read, specifically in the space between his neck and jaw. He knew that Sherlock was aware of his state of consciousness as the barely felt pecks transformed into kisses, both of their heavy breathing the only sound filling their shared room.

  
.. / -.- -. — .– / -.– — ..- / .- .-. . / .- .– .- -.- . / .— — …. -.

  
His mind quickly worked to uncode the message, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the finished message.

  
‘I know you are awake John.’

  
He soon shifted in the warm spot that had been made from their body heat, shuffling until he was facing a wide awake Sherlock, hair untamed and adorably sticking out in odd directions, calculating eyes gazing into his with hidden adoration, and god, those cupid bow lips that always looked so damn kissable.

  
None of them said a word, knowing that the messaging was still not over, and it was vital for them to keep quiet to transmit it successfully. John snaked his arms around the male’s neck, pressing himself closer -as much as he could- and hovering over his cheek before making contact with his own lips.

  
-.– — ..- / –. . -. .. ..- … / -… .- … - .- .-. -..

  
‘You genius bastard’

  
He didn’t miss the smile that tugged at Sherlock’s lips as understanding flashed across his eyes before a playful smirk splayed over, craning his neck to lean in for his turn. This time he chose John’s hand, holding it on his own as he started pressing the kisses over his palm, eyes remaining locked with his almost daringly.

  
.. / -.- -. — .– / -.– — ..- / .-.. — …- . / .. -

  
‘I know you love it’

  
Groaning. Watson almost groaned at how right the man was about everything. The mattress creaked under their weight as John had claimed his place on Sherlock’s lap, legs targeting the man’s legs so they held him in place, thighs pressing together over the silent wording of the couple.

  
The detective’s eyes had shut tightly as his head fell back with a small echo from the headboard, concentrating stiffly on the rustling that reached his ears and the sensation of John’s warm hands as they worked on the buttons of his shirt, popping them open swiftly and revealing the pallid smooth chest of the taller male. He couldn’t help but take a moment to press his palms on cool skin and listen to the pleading reverberate of his mind to press his lips to the male’s chest and speak to Sherlock.

  
It was astounding how sensitive Sherlock was, squirming under John’s loving kisses and firm hands grasping at John’s arms, the rapid beating of the detective’s heart and his heavy breathing telling him to not stop. ‘Dear god never stop.’ He could almost listen to the words that remained unspoken at Sherlock’s parted lips.

  
– -.– / … …. . .-. .-.. — -.-. -.-

  
‘My Sherlock…’

  
It was clear his message had gotten to him, Holmes pulling him impossibly closer and letting the blogger roam his hands over his body, lightly tilting John’s head to the side and aiming for the area right below his earlobe. He didn’t know if it was the warmth of the sun’s rays, or it was the effect the close proximity they had that was making the army doctor flush and oh so warm.

  
And then cupid bow lips connected with his skin.

  
.— — …. -.

  
‘John…’

  
John managed to nod silently, watching as the detective’s hand caressed his cheek compliant, accepting the pertaining silence for him to continue. John focused on Sherlock’s vibrant eyes, breathing shakily and with anticipation as his lover moved to his jaw, planting two swift kisses before freezing.

  
‘..’

  
‘i…’

  
John’s mouth opened to speak, but he went silent at Holmes’ light tilt of his head, teeth burrowing in his lower lip as he casted a meaningful gaze towards Watson. None of them moved at all, allowing Sherlock to gain courage to finally say those three words, those words that would lead to following years of a happy marriage of two men that solved crimes together. Two against the world. Nothing stopping them at all.

  
And if it weren’t for John’s candid and loving smile, he wouldn’t be right where the both of them were, Sherlock sitting back against the headboard with a flustered John on his lap, sending each other messages with a code that meant nothing and so much at the same time.

  
He then made his mind up and quickly started to press gentle kisses on John’s chin, traveling upwards and coming to approximation with the blogger’s mouth, ending the word right on the corner of those welcoming plump lips.

  
.-.. — …- .

  
‘Love’

  
He had said it. He was one word away to trust his emotions on John, to tell him that he would love him till the end of their days. That he vowed to protect him, be that friend and lover that would care for him like no one else would. That even when bad days came around, his love still wouldn’t be clouded by his anger, sadness, fear… That no matter how much people called him an emotionless bastard, his mind would never change from that simple yet powerful sentence.

  
_He. Loves. John Watson._

  
And as he kissed the letter ‘y’ and the ‘o’, they moved in at the same time, mouths pressing together in a chaste and breathless kiss, both of their hot breaths intermingling together as the room’s temperature skyrocketed. Heart beats thumped together, Sherlock’s hands having grasped John’s arse to pull him in for skin on skin contact, chests pressed and heaving to keep up with the exertion of the kiss. It wasn’t necessarily a sexual action, more like a strenuous need to have as much contact as they could, letting both of them realize that all of that was indeed very real, and it wasn’t just a cruel fantasy their minds were creating.

  
Sherlock didn’t need to kiss out the last letter for the message to transmit clearly, letting it get lost over the wordless conversation both men had minutes before they got lost in each other’s embrace.

_Fin_


End file.
